Anger Management Episode II: Revenge of the Sam
by Suededonym
Summary: Psst! Hey kid, ya want some crack? Warning: contains Yoga, unitards and ummm, revenge. Dean really shouldn't have laughed so much. Sam gets back at him by -OH MY GOD! Nothing slashy in here, just insanity.


Anger Management Episode II: Revenge of the Sam

Disclaimer: I own nothing but an elastic band and a pocketful of bad ideas.

Here's a recap for those who missed the first little crack fest.

THEN: Sam has anger issues. Cas has a yoga DVD and a leotard for him. Dean has a laughing fit.

NOW:

Dean wasn't sure how it happened. One minute he was enjoying a hearty guffaw at his brother's expense, the next he was finding out exactly how out of shape he was.

There had been a fight over the outfits of course. Upon finding out that the teeny-tiny-obviously-skin-tight black unitard wasn't half as bad as the teeny-tiny-obviously-skin-tight peacock blue unitard (and _that_ was not half as eye-gouging horrible teeny-tiny-obviously-skin-tight fuchsia unitard) the brothers had a full on wrestling match for the black one. Sam, by dint of being a Sasquatch, had won.

Castiel had obviously been taking pathetic-puppy-dog-expression lessons from Sam while Dean's back was turned, for neither brother could put up much of an argument against the yoga session. Cas just stared at them with those sad, sad eyes until they gave in.

At first Dean had thought the woman in the video was incredibly sexy. Later, he saw her for what she was; a soul-sucking demon from the darkest levels of Hell.

"Breathe in, hold it...hold it...and breathe out. Now we move into our next pose..."

Oh, how he hated her.

"Keep breathing..."

Sweat ran down places that had never seen the light of day.

"Don't forget to breathe..."

Every tendon and muscle screamed for mercy.

"Hey. Cas." panted Sam.

"Yes Samuel?"

"You're like...weirdly good at this."

Castiel shrugged, something Dean couldn't begin to contemplate doing.

"Hold your pose..."

Devil woman.

"I am used to such exercises."

Amusement was evident on Sam's face.

"Jimmy did yoga?"

Dean would have smiled, but breathing was all he could manage at the moment.

"_**I **_am used to such exercises. This was part of our regimen in the Garrison. Focus Proeliator, to train for battle."

Just then, someone knocked on the door. Dean fell into a heap on the cheap motel carpet.

"I'll get it." He volunteered to save face. Sam rolled his eyes. Castiel ignored him.

"From the front desk? I have the extra towels you asked for." To her credit, the woman kept from gaping at the peacock-blue monstrosity Dean was wearing.

Sam saw the perfect opportunity for revenge. He took it.

"Honeeey, who's at the door?" He pitched his voice just a little higher than normal while simultaneously throwing an arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Um." Said the housekeeping chick.

The quick responses and comebacks that Dean was famous for simply abandoned him.

"Um." He echoed back.

"Oh how rude of me! Would you like to join us? We were thinking about adding a fourth."

Curiosity trumped common sense, and the woman peeked around the doorframe to see a third man wearing a fuchsia unitard. He was in a pose so incredibly impossible that it caused all three of them to do a double take.

"Hello." He said simply.

"I-I-uh-I mean-I gotta go!"

"Are we still on for drinks later?" Dean called after her.

No answer.

It took Dean four seconds to process the last few moments and to close the door. In those four seconds, Sam really should have made his escape.

"Honey? Really? We were going to go out...and she was studying to be a massage therapist! A _massage therapist _and you just...you...you are SO DEAD!"

Sam laughed madly, revenge complete.

"COME HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! YOUR FACE!"

"AAAAAAARRRGH!"

"_Ommmmmmmm_" said Castiel.

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Mwahahaha. If you've seen Misha's spot on Nip/Tuck, you know what that pose the poor girl witnessed.

See the button? Good. Click the button and feed the author please.

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Pretty please with a sparkle on top?


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